


don't you mind that I've got this fever?

by honeyvenom



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Barebacking, Big Dick Richie Tozier, Biting, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Comeplay, Consent Issues, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Jealous Richie Tozier, M/M, Painplay, Past Drug Addiction, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Sex Addiction, Size Kink, Spit Kink, Submissive Eddie Kaspbrak, Sugar Daddy Kink, Top Richie Tozier, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvenom/pseuds/honeyvenom
Summary: After Derry, Eddie moves out to LA to be with Richie. And Richie knows he has to spend time breaking down Eddie's barriers - of sex, of being with a man, of being vulnerable. But he can't help feeling like Eddie is holding something back from him.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 60
Kudos: 969





	don't you mind that I've got this fever?

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read any of my other fics, especially "When you kiss me, I want to die", you'll be familiar with the themes I like to explore, and how I depict the Reddie dynamic. Like "When you kiss me", this fic features an emotionally and physically intense relationship between Richie and Eddie, with a Richie who's very possessive and jealous, and isn't afraid of showing it. If that, or any of the tags I've included, make you feel uncomfortable, I'd encourage you not to read any further.
> 
> Please note: This fic contains possible elements of abusive behaviour from Richie and there are consent issues during the one of the sex scenes where Eddie initially says no. While I haven't written this dynamic to be abuse, it could be inferred that way. If this is a trigger for you, please don't read this fic.

Eddie finds it hard letting go.

Richie knew that all too well. Had known it since they were children. Even before he was friends with Eddie, when he just knew him as the delicate little Derry hypochondriac always complaining of germs and lecturing other children about his low bone density. He was anaemic too, with a lack of healthy red blood cells, and he was quick to tell people that he had two grandparents who had passed away from tuberculosis. Acting like this was genetic, that the delicacy which had marred his family's history had been passed down through the generations to Eddie.

That is, until Richie and the others coaxed Eddie out of his shell. Eddie was always precious, but Richie remembers how much he had flourished as part of the Losers Club. How he had run with them like a tiny spitfire through Derry's streets. How he had shrieked and hurled himself into the rock fight between the Losers and Bowers' gang. How, despite his broken arm, he'd gone with them into the house on Neibolt, his mouth drawn up in a tight, determined pout. Afterwards, as they fell into the lake to wash off the blood and grime, Richie watched as Eddie stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans, and for the first time in his life felt speechless. Utterly speechless at this beautiful boy who was braver than anyone he'd ever met. 

When they meet again all those years later, it's to find Eddie had closed up as tight as a clam. Had unlearned everything the Losers once taught him about letting go. But even then their eyes meet across the table in the Jade Orient, Eddie telling Richie to go fuck himself, and Richie just knew that same spark was buried there deep down. It was just a case of finding it again and bringing it to the surface.

Richie had the opposite problem to Eddie. With him there had been no boundaries. No stop signs. He'd spent the last 20 years snorting everything. Injecting everything. Fucking anyone he wanted. All he'd known was excess for years, signposted by the string of hollow flings and endless stints in rehab. He was on the verge of a complete career meltdown, trying to scratch back any credibility he could. The call from Mike had come when he was at the start of finally getting clean - truly getting clean this time - and the rush of new memories combined with the nauseous twist of withdrawal had him puking his guts out over a railing while his manager Todd stood behind him shouting, "What the fuck, Tozier?"

Three shaky days later of going cold turkey and almost seeing the love of his life impaled in front of him as they fought the clown nemesis from their childhood, Richie had burst into Eddie's room at the Town House without even knocking. "I need you to know something," he said as Eddie looked at him, eyes wide and dark like a frightened deer's. "I need you to know that I think you're beautiful and amazing, and that I'm in love with you. And if you'd left now and I'd never told you that, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life."

And maybe it's a good thing that Richie didn't have any boundaries because the next thing Eddie was barrelling into his arms, babbling that he loved Richie too, that he'd loved him since they were boys, that he didn't want his life to be a lie anymore. And then they were kissing, Richie's hands on Eddie's cheeks, both of them crying into the kiss. The first kiss they'd ever shared.

But there were rules, Eddie said, as they sat on his bed, hands clasped as they shared a McDonalds coffee Richie brought him. Eddie would leave his wife for Richie, but there were to be no drugs, and no cheating. If Eddie even caught a whiff that Richie was using again or he'd been with anyone else, he was gone. Not understanding even then, that every single person Richie had wanted over the last 20 years had resembled Eddie in some way. Whether it was the dark hair, or dimples, or small stature. Richie was almost ashamed of how much Eddie had informed his sexuality.

It was hard to be embarrassed, anyway, with Eddie admitting he'd spent years fantasising about men who looked like him. That he'd secretly had a huge crush on Richie and would watch his videos on the internet late at night under the guise of having work to do. And Richie thought some kind of slavering beast was going to break out of him as soon as Eddie said that. Because, hello, how fucking hot was that?

"You make me want to be clean," he says to Eddie that day, as he strokes a hand down his cheek. "I've never wanted to be clean more." 

Eddie softens under his gaze, already so different to the tightly coiled man who walked into the restaurant three days earlier. And that was before Richie had even showed him their initials carved into the kissing bridge. Something that made Eddie cry again, gasping wetly into Richie's kiss.

But if Richie thought the love confessions and Eddie's divorce would make things easy for them, he was wrong.

Months after they leave Derry for the last time, after his divorce has been finalised, Eddie comes to LA. He meets Richie at LAX on the verge of a panic attack. Even from a distance Richie can see the way he flutters like a hummingbird. And Richie knows he's a flight risk. That he's one second from booking a flight back to New York and telling Myra that he'd made a huge mistake, that he needs to be with her again.

But Richie doesn't let that happen. Because the second he gets to Eddie, he's got both of Eddie's hands in his own and he's pressing him up against the wall near the entrance to Arrivals, ignoring people's curious looks as he tells Eddie to breathe. Eddie needs to be grounded, always did when they were boys and Eddie grappled around for his inhaler, unless Richie had put his arms around him and told him everything was okay. He does that now until Eddie grows still, pressing his face gratefully into Richie's neck, his breath a quiver.

Eddie doesn't run away. He goes with Richie to his house in Silver Lake and stays with Richie in his guest bedroom. Richie had hoped Eddie would want to stay in his room, that when the clock struck midnight, the fear would drop off Eddie like droplets of water from his swimming pool, and he'd slip into Richie's room with him. Where they could finally be physical together after all these months of panting down the phone like a dog, saying how much he loved Eddie, how much he fucking needed him. As he's thinking about it, Eddie walks into the kitchen and asks him where he should sleep, and he looks so fucking innocent in his sleeping t-shirt, and holding his bag of toiletries, that all Richie can do is show him to the spare bedroom. Saying he's just down the hall if he needs anything. Like his intentions weren't anything but completely pure.

Richie spends the next 10 minutes jerking off in his room, forehead against the door, as he thinks about Eddie in such tormentingly close, fuckable distance. Thinks about going into his room, of Eddie's shocked expression, of forcing him onto the bed, of how small he would look in the middle of the huge bed. Of seeing all that creamy skin, and burying himself for the first time between the thighs that had shocked him into a feral kind of sexuality 27 years before. He comes all over his fist, wanting it so much to be Eddie's mouth. That snarky little pout he does when he's cross.

But fucking wasn't coming anytime soon. Eddie was scared of even eating a cashew, let alone having gay sex. And bringing him out of his shell had been one thing when they were both children, but as an adult his fears were so hardwired into him that Richie wonders if they can get past them.

They take baby steps. First Richie manages to convince Eddie to get proper allergy tests done, which prove he isn't allergic to nuts or dairy or any of the things he didn't let himself enjoy for years. The first time he eats a nut, Richie thinks Eddie's going to cry. But he does it, the beautiful, brave little thing he is, and Richie almost cries too. Three weeks later and Eddie's a maniac for pistachios, which Richie keeps stocked in the house at all times now, and a really good crusty bread which he munches on as he applies for jobs on his laptop.

He also spends a lot of time in the back yard after Richie tells him that no, he wasn't going to get sun cancer, and hey, don't you think the vitamin D would be good for you? And just seeing all the freckles pop up on his shoulders and the bridge of his nose, as his skin darkens into a Californian tan, makes Richie's mouth water. Makes him think about the summer of 1989, the one marked by Pennywise, but also a mounting, savage desire that at the age of 13 Richie didn't understand. When just the sight of his tiny, long-lashed best friend made him want to howl.

But there were problems. The first being Eddie refusing to move in with Richie.

"We've only just started dating, Richie," he says, as he tests the firmness of a butternut squash. They're buying produce at the Whole Foods near Richie's house, where Eddie's been dragging Richie in a plight to make him eat healthier after a 20-year diet of pizza and beer. But he won't look at Richie as he says it, because he knows Richie can read every expression on his face. Which means he's hiding something.

"I know, but it's not like we just met," Richie says, looking at the way Eddie is pressing his fingertips into the skin of the squash. "After everything we've been through? You love me, I love you," Eddie's ears go pink at that last bit, "And you'd be so much more comfortable with me, we can see each other as much as we like. And my place is much bigger than the ones you can afford-"

Eddie's head shoots up. "What? What do you mean what I can afford?"

"I don't mean it like that. I'm just saying LA's really expensive. I can only afford it because-"

"Because you're rich and famous, I know."

Richie sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "Dude, what is your problem?"

And if anything, Richie was living a quaint lifestyle to the one he did five years ago. When he lived in the heart of Beverly Hills, smack bang in the middle of his party years, when Richie was blowing all his money on coke and the kind of parties that raged for 18 hours. When a typical morning was waking up next to some faceless man or woman, heroin or coke on the dresser, vomit on the floor. Right when Todd was threatening to drop his ass unless he got his act together, and Richie had told him to fuck off in his office, still strung out on ketamine and no sleep.

"I'm not a charity case, Richie," Eddie says now. "I'm not some urchin on the street for you to take pity on."

"No, I know that," Richie says through gritted teeth. "You're my boyfriend."

Eddie looks around nervously, hugging the squash to his chest and it would be damn cute if Richie wasn't feeling so mad right now.

"Keep it down, okay?"

"Eddie, we're in LA. Not Brokeback Virginia."

Eddie looks at him, eyes soft and wide. "Look, you said you wouldn't push. You said, Richie."

And he had, had promised Eddie on the phone all those months, that if Eddie moved out to LA they could move at his pace, that he wouldn't hurry him or make him do anything he was uncomfortable with. But in fairness, Richie had been burning up from the torment of long-distance passion and probably would have stabbed himself through the hand and sent Eddie a picture as a sign of his devotion to him.

But how was he supposed to resist the lethal combination of doe eyes and emotional manipulation?

"I'm not pushing," he mutters, "just want you to be happy."

"I am. Now, do you want me to make you that squash risotto tonight or not?"

So Eddie finds his own place. A tiny apartment about 30 minutes from Richie. Which doesn't make Richie happy, but he puts up with it.

And then it's the issue of money.

One afternoon they're out at lunch together at some cute café in Atwater Village, and Richie feels loopy with happiness just from watching Eddie nibble a forkful of zucchini, every now and then reaching out to steal one of Richie's rosemary shoestring fries from his plate. He even lets Richie buy him a glass of rosé, grinning with his dimples, even though he usually insists on not drinking until after 6pm.

Eddie won't kiss him in public yet, too spooked by the possibility of paparazzi, who tend to lurk around whenever Richie goes out, and still getting used to being in an open relationship with a man, but he does let Richie hold his hand across the table. As they wait for the bill, Richie brings it to his mouth and kisses the inside of his wrist, where his pulse beats a faint tempo.

"My beautiful boy," he says. 

"'M not a boy," Eddie says, but he looks entranced by Richie's lips against his wrist. 

"Yeah you are, my delicious honey boy."

Eddie's eyes drop, lashes thick against his cheeks, and Richie wonders if Eddie will let him fuck him soon. How tight he's going to be when Richie pushes inside him. When the bill comes. Richie naturally takes it, sliding it toward him and getting his credit card out of his wallet.

"Erm, what are you doing?" Eddie asks. 

"Paying, what does it look like?"

"No, you're not!

"Seriously, Eddie? I can pay, just let me treat you."

"It's not a treat, Richie. You want to pay all the time."

And here it is. This weird thing where Eddie won't let Richie pay for anything. They either have to split everything evenly, or Eddie pays for himself. And god forbid, Richie ever bring up the little fact that it's not really fair because he has a lot more money than Eddie.

"So? Who cares? You're making my brain hurt."

"I care! And I want to pay evenly!"

Richie pushes back the bill with a little too much force.

"Okay, Jesus, do it then."

When they say goodbye Richie feels too tense to be sweet, but then Eddie's lips are on the corner of his mouth and his soft little "love you" cracks all the ice. He ends up with his arms around Eddie, kissing his cheek and mouth until Eddie's pushing him away, saying, "we're in public, Richie!"

Then it's Eddie's fear of intimacy. 

Eddie's been in LA for four months and so far all they've done is kiss. And for the first few weeks they're just these innocent virgin kind of kisses, close-mouthed and quick, like a peck on Richie's lips or on the side of his mouth. Until Richie teaches Eddie how to kiss with his mouth open, using his thumb to coax Eddie's lips apart - and Jesus, does it spark a little thrill down Richie's spine when Eddie moans at the feeling of his mouth being opened for him - and helping him feel comfortable with having Richie's tongue in his mouth.

Now they sometimes kiss so heavily that Richie feels like he's been hit by a truck, like when a goodbye kiss one morning turns into a full-on make-out session by Richie's front door. When Richie presses Eddie up against the door, pulling him up on his tip toes with his hands on his waist, as he kisses his way hungrily from Eddie's mouth down the delicate column of his neck. Until Eddie's pushing Richie away, saying he needs to go to work right now, as Richie pants and says, sure, licking at his bottom lip where he can still taste Eddie's bubblegum pout.

Things shift on a Friday night when Eddie comes over for an evening of snuggling and watching some dumbass movie.

As the movie starts, Richie decides to crack out the booze, and it's something that Eddie can't resist - a strawberry schnapps that tastes just like ice cream. A couple of clumsy shots later and Eddie's straddling him on the sofa, his arms looped around Richie's neck as they make-out sloppily, the film playing out in the background utterly forgotten. The schnapps makes Eddie loose-limbed and pliable. So different to the way he usually is. How stiff and starched, like a shirt that's just been dry-cleaned. Now he's gone utterly soft in Richie's hands, like butter. And he's making these little appreciative sounds into Richie's mouth like he's tasting something delicious for the first time.

And Richie can't help the way he's pushing his hips up, getting his crotch right up against Eddie's peachy ass. He's wearing his cotton lounging shorts, and Richie's thinking, brain fuzzy, about unzipping his jeans and pushing the head of his dick right up against Eddie's hole. The one that's never had anything inside it. Not even Eddie's fingers. The thought spills into his bloodstream, makes him feel drunker than booze ever could.

It has Richie panting against his ear, "Mmmm, baby, can't wait to get inside you."

Eddie's voice hitches, a high little gasp like he's been socked in the stomach, and he pushes his ass down on Richie's dick in a way that has Richie groaning like an animal. And Richie's about to ask if they want to take things to the bedroom except the next thing Eddie's pulling off Richie's lap. Richie almost bites his tongue. He's so hard in his jeans, so fucking turned on from rutting up into Eddie that he hurts. 

"We should stop," Eddie says, though his eyes are almost black and Richie can see from the soft swell of his shorts that he's hard. 

"Why?"

"Because- because I want to," he says firmly, his voice trembling at the end. Poor baby, trying so hard to be good.

And it's on the tip of his tongue to say it's okay, to pull Eddie back on his lap, wanting that ass grinding down on his dick again, but Eddie's words from the supermarket come back to him - "you said you wouldn't push" - and he thinks about how Eddie's spent the last 20 years never having sex, hating himself whenever he so much as thought about another man. Married to a woman who evoked nothing in him but a faint shiver. 

So he nods, voice cracking as he says, "Sure, baby, we can stop."

He excuses himself to the bathroom, where he gets himself out his jeans and wraps a hand around his cock. Thinks again what it would have been like to push Eddie's shorts to the side and rut against his tight little hole. Imagines his dick catching on it, of his come shooting against it. Wonders if it would have dripped down Eddie's thigh like he'd just come inside him. That last image has Richie coming, mouth open on a silent snarl.

When he goes back to the living room he finds Eddie sitting daintily on the sofa like nothing had happened, legs arranged like a shy debutante. He doesn't ask what Richie was doing in the bathroom, doesn't comment on the fact that Richie isn't hard anymore. He just pats the space on the sofa next to him and holds out the tub of roasted cashews with a hopeful expression on his face.

When they do have sex for the first time, it's a complete disaster.

"I'd like to do it," Eddie says to him one night a few weeks later, when they're lounging around, Eddie's ankles crossed in his lap. 

"Do it, baby?"

Eddie looks at him shrewdly over the top of his book like he's being deliberately difficult. When he has no idea what Eddie means. Eddie could be talking about taking up tennis lessons for all he knows, or switching to orange juice that has pulp.

"Do it, Richie. Make love. Have sex. Fuck."

Richie almost chokes on his laughter. "Which one?"

"Richie!"

"Okay, okay, of course we can. But are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for."

"I want to," Eddie says, and Richie watches as two bright blotches of colour rise in his cheeks. "I've been thinking about it?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and I want to with you."

And because Richie can't resist he asks, "How do you want it?" as he draws his hand teasingly up Eddie's thigh.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, who's going to do what?"

"Oh," and Richie lets him squirm for a moment, enjoying how embarrassed he looks. After years of being with people who had been completely unashamed about their bodies, seeing Eddie get so shy about sex gets him weirdly hot under the collar. 

"I think," and Eddie hides his face behind his book, "that I want you to do it to me."

And fuck, does Richie have questions. How long had he been thinking about it? And had he always thought about giving himself up to Richie's dick? And how did he imagine it would go? With him initiating it, or with Richie just fucking taking it from him? It makes his head swim.

"Do it?" Richie says, knowing he's being a dick but not being able to help it. Even as his heart starts to thump; his blood heating up a few degrees.

Eddie slams his book down again, face so red Richie's worried he's about to have a seizure.

"You know what I mean, Richie! Put your dick inside me!"

"Okay, sweetheart, why don't you scream it off the rooftops? _I WANT RICHIE TOZIER TO FUCK ME!_ Maybe we could hold a press conference?"

"God, I hate you."

Richie smiles. "Eddie, I'm ribbing you. You know that's what I want too," and he pulls Eddie into his lap for a cuddle, revelling at the way Eddie immediately quietens, folding himself against Richie like he's never belonged anywhere else than on his lap.

And Richie sounds calm enough, but it's all he can think of for the next week. He's a man possessed, thinking about it when he goes with Eddie to the farmers' market, when he's sitting at his laptop trying to write new material, even staring off into space with a spoon of cereal hovering in front of his face. He's going to be inside Eddie. He's going to push his dick into him, be fucking _part of him_, like he's wanted to ever since he knew what sex was, and he looked sideways at his beautiful friend in class and wanted nothing more than to do that to him.

Nothing can top the thrill of knowing that, even when Eddie takes all the romance out of it by booking a date and a time in their email calendars. 

All Richie can do is laugh. "Baby, we're going to fuck, not embark on a cruise to the Maldives."

"If you're going to make fun of me, then you can just forget about it," Eddie says, an angry little frown between his eyes. So Richie mimes zipping up his mouth, before leaning in to give Eddie a soft kiss. And Eddie sinks against him before jumping and telling him the ice cream is melting, and why the hell didn't he put it straight in the freezer when they got back from the supermarket?

Richie's too busy thinking about his dick in Eddie's ass to snap back.

When the date comes round, Richie decides to wine and dine Eddie. He's about to pop his baby's ass cherry - _Oh my god, don't say that, Richie!_ Eddie had said, face twisted in horror - so he's going to make sure it's a night to remember. He gets in takeout from the fancy Italian place Eddie likes, where you can get things like lobster dusted in saffron. And he buys a $500 bottle of wine, though he won't tell Eddie how much it cost.

He also gets a haircut and a new shirt. Though he doesn't shave because he knows, intimately, how much Eddie likes the stubble. And thoughts of rubbing his stubbled cheeks across the soft, secret skin of Eddie's inner thighs and watching the skin bloom pink has his tongue lolling out.

But Eddie's obviously nervous when he gets to Richie's. He'd been biting his bottom lip because it's slightly puffy. And Richie would enjoy the sight of that if he'd been the one biting down on it. But if Eddie's done it, it means he's feeling anxious. And Richie doesn't want that. Eddie doesn't even comment on Richie's haircut, even though he'd spent the last two weeks complaining that Richie's dark, unkempt head of hair made him look like a werewolf, shrieking when Richie tackled him onto the bed saying he was going to bite him and make him his werewolf bride.

Eddie hardly eats anything when dinner is served. He pushes his lobster around on the plate and drinks his wine hastily, snapping at Richie when he asks if he's okay. Richie has one irresistible moment of almost telling Eddie to take that back right the fuck now before he bites down on his tongue at the last second. Instead he smiles at Eddie, shoving a forkful of pasta into his own mouth to stop himself talking.

When they get to the bedroom, where Richie's placed a sea of amber candles and changed the bed sheets, Eddie is a nervous wreck. 

"What if I'm not good?" he asks as Richie kisses his neck.

Richie stills and shifts back. Makes Eddie look at him, with a hand on his chin.

"Not good?"

"I know... you've been with a lot of people."

And this is one of the many instances where Richie absolutely hates his younger self. Hates that Eddie had probably seen lurid accounts of Richie's sexual escapades plastered across the internet for years. He winces when he thinks about a couple of the sex parties he'd been to.

But Richie had all his tests done when Eddie had first moved to LA, had wanted to prove to Eddie he was clean, that he wouldn't do anything to hurt him. If he'd done anything right over the last 20 years it was make sure he was safe. But maybe there had been something else plucking at Eddie's insecurity all along that had nothing to do with STDs or any of the myths he'd heard about gay sex in the boys' bathrooms of their youth.

"Eddie, I used to be an asshole, I treated people like shit. Because I was arrogant and high most of the time. I'm not proud of it."

"It's okay, I'm not trying to say you were a slut or anything," Eddie mumbles. "I just don't know how I'll compare."

"Baby, you're the only person I've ever been in love with. You're going to be better than anyone."

Eddie looks at him, eyes so soft they could break Richie's heart. "Really?"

"Really. Just let me take care of you, okay?"

Eddie nods but he still looks uncertain, his legs still drawn up to his chest protectively like he used to as a child.

Richie takes off his clothes first to ease him into it. And Christ, it makes him feel sexy as hell to see Eddie biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes track the broad width of his shoulders, the dark hair on his chest. The hard outline of his dick through his boxer briefs. Richie's stripped in front of countless people before - drunk, high, sober - but no one has ever looked at him like Eddie is now. Like he's a fucking gorgeous hunk ripped from a centrefold, a leading man from every '80s action movie Eddie watched avidly as a little boy.

"Ready for the main show?" Richie asks, waggling his eyebrows at Eddie.

Eddie purses his lips. "Get on with it, Tozier," he says, prissiness undermined by how red his cheeks are. 

So Richie does, sticking his tongue out at Eddie before hooking his fingers into his boxers and pulling them down his legs.

When he sees his dick, Eddie's eyes go so wide he looks like a Disney princess. Richie's already hard, which isn't a surprise, as he's in a constant state of half arousal when he's around Eddie. Just kissing him is enough to make him come like a jet pack these days.

"God, Richie, why the hell are you so big?" Eddie asks.

Richie huffs laughter through his nose. "Er, sorry?"

Eddie sits there fidgeting, and god damn he's the honeyest boy on the planet, but he doesn't look like he's going to do anything anytime soon. He looks far too frightened of Richie's dick, a thought which shouldn't heat his blood but does.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can touch it," he murmurs gently, like Eddie's a spooked kitten. He takes Eddie's hand and draws his fingers around his dick, groaning at the feel of Eddie's fingers on him for the first time. Something he'd thought about frequently and greedily since he was 13-years-old, when he jerked off frantically under his bed covers and imagined it was Eddie's hand. And fuck, just the sight of Eddie's small hand on his cock makes him want to come. That and the way Eddie's staring at it, a flush staining his cheeks as he takes in how long and thick it is. 

"How are you going to fit inside me, Richie?" he asks. And he isn't even trying to talk dirty, he's genuinely wondering, and that makes Richie even harder. Eddie gasps at the way he twitches in his hand, looks so shy as he blinks down at Richie's dick.

"You like it? It's going to feel so hot and hard inside you," Richie says, trailing his lips down Eddie's cheek.

"I've- I've never touched another man before," Eddie confesses, and Richie knew that, but the words still make his stomach clench.

"Fuck, you're going to make me come before we've even done anything."

Eddie breathes heavily, eyes dazed. "I mean, I'd read about how big it was but I never really thought..." his words trail off as his hand moves tentatively, rubbing a finger gently over the head, where a bead of precome swells.

"Wait, you did what?" Eddie had _read_ about him?

But Eddie's just staring at Richie's dick entranced, and Richie decides to question him about that again later on.

Richie uses the distraction to press Eddie down to the bed and start peeling away his clothes, revealing all the tanned olive skin underneath. It's like unwrapping a present, Richie thinks woozily, as his eyes feast on Eddie's small shoulders and chest, the tantalising jut of his ribs and lightly toned stomach, his narrow waist, feeling himself grow wild at the dip of his pelvis, at the slim arch of his hips. Eddie's jeans come off and the thighs are suddenly there, way too soft and juicy for a guy as small as Eddie.

"Who gave you these thighs, huh?" Richie teases. "Did Mike perform some arcane ritual?"

"Shut up, Richie," Eddie says, throwing an arm over his embarrassed eyes.

And Christ, if there was one thing he could thank that Pennywise fuck for, it was bringing him to this moment. Where he had Eddie laid out for him like this. He'd go back and do it all over again if he had to. Eddie was worth everything.

"I read about the best way to prepare for gay sex on the internet," Eddie says, cutting through the haze. "You should try to get three fingers inside me first." Eddie says it firmly, though his ears go red and the skin of his thighs shudders when Richie brings his fingers down them.

Richie grins at him crookedly. "Why don't you let me worry about that?"

Eddie's already hard when his pants come off, something that makes Richie's mouth flood with saliva. He licks a hot stripe up his pretty dick, as he thumbs at Eddie's nipples, something he's discovered he likes a fucking lot during their late-night fumblings on the sofa. Wonders sometimes if he could get Eddie off just by pinching his nipples, tormenting them with his fingers and tongue, but that's a thought for another time.

He eases his hands under Eddie's bouncy butt, two firm handfuls of it, and squeezes hard. "You gonna show me your little hole, baby?" he says, grinning at how bashful Eddie looks, how he digs his hands into the bed covers.

"Just do it," he mumbles. And Richie does, slowly parting his cheeks until his pink virgin hole peeks out shyly. And fuck, it's pretty.

"Fuck, look at this little cherry," he says hoarsely, before leaning in to press a fat swipe of his tongue over it. He groans at Eddie's fresh, clean taste, at how it clenches against his tongue, glistening with his spit. One day soon, he promises himself, he's gonna eat Eddie out for hours.

"Richie!" Eddie says, looking scandalised, making Richie chuckle as he pushes his head back.

When he eases his first finger inside him, swathed in an expensive warming lube - only the best for the fairytale vision of a man spread out before him - the beautiful little moan Eddie makes lights up every nerve ending in Richie's body.

"God, you're gorgeous," Richie says, as he watches his finger sliding into Eddie. At the wet, pink pucker sucking him in.

"I'm not," Eddie stutters, the flush spilling down his face to his chest. Like he's been bathed in rose petals.

"Yeah, you are," Richie says, as he thrusts his finger in slowly. "Does it feel okay?"

Eddie nods, eyes dreamy. "Yeah, 's okay."

"Good boy." Eddie shivers at that, always does when Richie gives him praise.

When he feels open and slick around his finger, Richie pulls it out, applying more lube and pushing two inside him.

"You should see yourself right now," Richie says, mesmerised by Eddie's naked body and his splayed legs in the candlelight. "Look so pretty around my fingers. Can't believe you've never shown anyone else this tiny sweet hole."

Eddie's face flushes harder. "Richie ngh-"

And that's when he crooks his fingers just right, hitting Eddie's sweet spot dead on. Knows by the way Eddie's eyes fly open, by the shocked, stuttered breath he makes in the back of his throat. Like he's felt something he never thought was possible.

"That's it, angel," Richie croons, as he rubs his fingers against that spot. "My beautiful angel baby. That's what your sweet spot feels like."

Eddie just stares up at him, eyes wide, mouth open.

"Oh my god," he whispers, voice shaking. And fuck, Richie knows he has an addictive personality, but any man would get hooked on the way Eddie sounds, how his legs tremble where they're wrapped around him. How hot he feels on the inside, like crushed velvet.

He drags his fingers against it again. Fucking revels in the way Eddie arches his back. "More, Richie-" he says. And if he gets this worked up from having a couple of fingers inside him, how was he going to react when he was taking Richie's big dick?

By the time he's worked three fingers inside him, Eddie is covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he thinks he could finish just like this, at the sight of Eddie's hot, tight petal-pink asshole clamped around his fingers. He's tempted to jerk off, to come over Eddie's plump thighs as he rides Richie's fingers, but the brain fog lifts when Eddie's legs shake. When he gasps he's ready, and Richie fumbles the condom on like a fucking virgin.

He's lining himself up, and thinking he might die at the way Eddie's tiny little hole opens up around the head of his dick. But then Eddie's tensing, tightening in a way that makes him moan. The head pops inside, but the tight, restrictive way Eddie clamps down isn't good.

"Baby, I can't get inside you like this," Richie breathes, forearms quivering. "You need to relax or I could tear you."

"Okay," Eddie says, looking past Richie's shoulder at the ceiling, biting down on his lip again. And Richie feels him disassociating, thinking about all the things he'd probably read on the internet. What can happen when you do anal for the first time, cataloguing all the risks.

"Eddie, sweetheart, look at me," Richie says, wanting Eddie back in the moment, here with him, not in some fucking Web MD website.

But Eddie's tensing even more, making Richie groan. He's not going to get inside Eddie like this without forcing his way inside. And the thought of that shouldn't make him hot, shouldn't make precome drip down his dick, but he wants it. Wants to force Eddie's legs apart and batter his way inside. Because Eddie's body is fucking his. He didn't kill a man for him for fucking nothing, just for Eddie to not let him in his body.

But the moment is broken because Eddie is squirming under him. "Stop Richie," he says, and he's pushing Richie back until he has to pull out.

Richie sits back on his heels, dick throbbing from how much it wants to be buried inside Eddie. "Eddie, what is it?"

"Maybe we should try it the other way round?" Eddie asks, bottom lip raw from how much he's been chewing on it.

And that's the last thing Richie wants, but if it means Eddie will be more comfortable he'll do it.

It's a disaster. Richie doesn't enjoy it, shifts uncomfortably as Eddie tries to get inside, and Eddie doesn't stay hard. It ends up with Eddie on the other side of the bed, as far away from Richie as he can get without falling on the floor, legs drawn up to his chest.

"Eddie, it's okay," he says, stroking a hand up Eddie's quaking leg. Because he knows Eddie is hating himself right now. Years of self-loathing piling down on him. That he's berating himself, calling himself a failure. "It's your first time, you're bound to be nervous. We can try again."

Eddie doesn't look at him. Just stares at his knees.

"And it's okay to like it the other way round. To want to be on bottom. I don't much like taking it."

"I shouldn't want it though," Eddie says quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Eddie looks at him. "Getting fucked. Momma- I mean, Mom, she said that men who wanted to be fucked had something poisonous inside them."

And fuck does Richie want to bring that bitch back from the dead so he can beat the living shit out of her.

"No offence, Eddie, but your mom was a fucking psycho. She made you believe for years that you were sick, that you needed medication so you could rely on her. Nothing she said to you was real. She would have done anything to stop you living your life, being happy."

Eddie nods, though his eyes are still sad. 

"Can we just hug?" Eddie asks him, looking so much like the little boy he once was that Richie could drown in how much he loves him. He looks relieved when Richie opens his arms to let him in. They fall asleep like that, Eddie borrowed tight in Richie's arms.

The next morning Richie blows him in bed, two of his fingers buried deep inside him, until Eddie comes in his mouth. Then when Eddie's coming down from how hard Richie sucked his dick, brings him waffles in bed, and kisses his shy, pink face as Richie laughs.

When they do have sex, it happens a couple of weeks later without either of them planning for it. Eddie's sitting in bed while Richie lies next to him, stroking his hand absently down the ridges of Eddie's spine as he watches YouTube on his iPad. 

"Richie?" 

"Hmm? Yeah, baby?"

"I want you to fuck me."

It's so quiet Richie thinks maybe he just imagined it. That a fantasy popped into his head. That happens sometimes. What Eddie would feel like, look like, how he'd sound, when Richie gets his dick inside him. Especially over the last couple of weeks, when Richie has to excuse himself suddenly and jerk off, thinking about how it felt to press the head of his dick inside Eddie's fucking scrumptious pink heat.

"Don't make me say it again, you heard."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." 

So Richie gets him splayed out on the bed again, Eddie's legs bracketing his thighs as he stares up at him.

"Just look at me, okay gorgeous?" he says as he rolls the condom on. "I'll look after you, just trust me."

Eddie nods, eyes locked with his, relaxing into it when Richie pushes his fingers inside him. And then it's his dick, and this time he's sinking in without any resistance. And Eddie's arching his throat like he wants Richie to bite him. To claim him like they're mating.

"Fuck," he says when Eddie hikes his legs up around his back, locking his ankles together. "Does it feel good?"

"So good, Richie," he says, and he's almost slurring. And the feel and sight of him is going to Richie's head too.

"God, I wanna take a picture of you like this. Strung out on my dick like a slut." It's out of his mouth before he can stop it - hey, they don't call him Trashmouth for nothing - and he'd regret it, but Eddie's moaning brokenly under him. 

"You- you can't," he gasps. And Richie doesn't push it, shelving that idea for another time. Right now it's heaven just burying himself inch by inch into Eddie, a long, solid groan coming out of Richie's chest until he's bottomed out, sheathed completely in his boy.

"Richie, it feels so good," Eddie mumbles. "Oh my god, it's so good, so good, you're so big," he babbles.

"See what you've been missing, sweetheart? We should've been doing this years ago." And he hasn't even started fucking him yet, but even now it's the best thing Richie's ever felt. Eddie had worried so much he couldn't compare, when just this has Richie on the verge of a total meltdown.

He dips his hand under Eddie's ass, fingers the skin around Eddie's rim where they're joined so tightly.

"Feel that, honey, where I'm buried in you? Think you didn't get fucked all these years because it was my cock you needed?"

"Richie, ugh," Eddie moans, throwing his head back when the head of Richie's dick nudges that sweet little button inside him.

"Look at you being so desperate. Always knew you would be. Gagging for me whenever I rocked up and you stared at my crotch like you knew I had a big dick. I always did, baby, and I wanted it inside you. Want me to fuck you with it now?"

He almost laughs at the way Eddie so eagerly nods his head. Would, if he wasn't feeling so hungry for the hard fucking he wants to give him.

He draws his dick out, the thick, long slide of it making Eddie whine, and it has to hurt, but he's being so good, before he's shoving back in, every inch of it, and the noise Eddie makes at that, at being speared on his cock, makes him grow feral with need.

"I think- I think you're too big for me, Richie," Eddie says, despite shifting his hips like he wants to get more of him inside.

"Don't care, gonna force my dick in you anyway," he says, making Eddie shiver, ass clenching so sweetly around his cock.

And he knows he's not going to last because he's finally inside Eddie. Fucking inside him like he's wanted to be for years. Desperately chasing down every dark-haired, dimpled person he met and never feeling satisfied. But now the boy of his dreams is under him, like he was always meant to be. 

"I've wanted this since I was 12," Richie says into his neck, pushing his dick as deep as it'll go into Eddie's tight, narrow body. "Wanted it as soon as I knew what fucking was. Every day you wore those fucking shorts, it's all I wanted." 

"Oh my god, Richie," Eddie says breathless, chest heaving from Richie's solid, thick thrusts.

"Yeah, baby, fucking take me, you're being so good."

"I-I used to touch myself while watching you on YouTube."

Richie blinks down at him, where his glasses are slipping down his nose. "You did what?"

"Yeah, I used to fantasise about meeting you at one of your shows and you fucking me backstage."

"_Shit_." And he starts to really fuck Eddie now, not as hard as he wants, or as fast, but still burying himself inside him as deep as he can, savouring how hot and beautiful he is around him. As Eddie digs his fingers into Richie's biceps, whining with every thrust, his entire body arching when Richie hits his sweet spot dead on. Looking up into his eyes the entire time like Richie's some radiant fucking sun god.

"You're so sexy, Richie," he moans. And it's like some filter has broken between Eddie's brain and his mouth. "I love you so much."

"God, I love you, too" he groans, as he's on the verge of coming, feeling it build up, his balls hot and heavy where they slap against the soft, bouncy peach of Eddie's ass, wanting so much to come inside Eddie without the rubber.

He pulls himself up, resting on his forearms to look down at Eddie, "You feel so fucking good, Eddie, the best fucking thing I've ever had." 

Eddie moans again, clamping his thighs hard around Richie's waist. "R-really?"

"Yeah, baby," he says, licking his mouth where he can taste Eddie's sweat. "The best fucking thing." He feels his balls draw up tight at the sight of Eddie unravelling under him. At the prissy, buttoned-up man he met in Derry all those months ago losing his mind on his cock.

"I'm gonna come, sweetheart. Gonna come when I'm inside you". 

"I wanted this too," Eddie blurts. "When we were younger. You were the first person I ever fantasised about, the only person." 

"Oh _fuck_, Eddie."

"It got so bad that I - ngh, fuck _right there_, Richie - I secretly looked at these magazines for fucking pervs, and I - _fuck_ \- I pretended to be one of the boys in them. Wanted so much to be like them for you."

"Christ, sweetheart-"

Just the thought of that, the thought of teenage Eddie looking at pictures of pretty boys in skin mags and pretending to be one of them for Richie, of trying out different poses, of touching himself as he thought about Richie seeing him like that, pushes him over the edge. He comes into the condom so hard he thinks he almost blacks out. His cock pulsing as he wishes he was spilling into Eddie without the latex between them. But then Eddie's coming too, jerking himself off under Richie until he spurts hard over their stomachs, keening in a way Richie's never heard before.

And Jesus fucking Christ, Richie hoped it would always be this good.

"Oh my god," Eddie gasps afterwards, when Richie's finally pulled out, sliding the condom off and decking it into the trashcan by the bed. When he's pulled Eddie against his chest and they're both panting as they stare up at the ceiling. 

"Hell yeah, baby," Richie says, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

"I love you," Eddie whispers against his chest, before kissing the skin just above his heart.

"I love you, too. Are you sore?"

"A little. 'S nice though."

"You're nice. My nice, sweet, beautiful, darling boy."

"Richie, stop," Eddie says, burying his face into his armpit. 

And Richie being Richie completely shatters the afterglow by saying, "Fuck, I'm going to commission a painting of your butthole, it's that beautiful," ending the evening with being hit in the face repeatedly with Eddie's pillow.

Richie hopes after that, that the dam has broken between them. That whatever intimacy issues, or fears, Eddie had before would crumble away. He even custom orders a t-shirt for him that reads "RICHIE TOZIER TOOK MY VIRGINITY" as a gag gift, which ends up straight in the trash. But even after their first time, Eddie continues to be weird about sex. Gets cagier about it, either shying away or telling Richie he's not in the mood.

Like when Richie comes home one day after a long afternoon of boring meetings to find Eddie undressing. He immediately crowds him up against the mirror, chubbing up in his pants at the sight of his compact little body. At the thought of him clenching around his cock.

But Eddie just squirms, says, "Richie, get off," as he elbows him in the ribs.

"Why? Let me have you, come on," Richie wheedles, nosing at Eddie's neck.

Eddie breaks away, stumbling back a couple of steps like Richie's some animal that's just broken out of its cage.

"We can't just do it all the time. We have to control ourselves," he says. And what the fuck was this? Some Victorian fucking novel?

"Huh, why? We're in a relationship, we should be able to do it as much as we want."

"I just don't feel comfortable," Eddie says, fiddling with his tie.

And Richie wants to shout, feeling the beginnings of a tantrum crackle under his skin. Because he just doesn't fucking understand. What was the problem now? But he doesn't want to be that guy. Doesn't want to force or manipulate Eddie into anything, not after everything he's been through. So he says okay, and later fucks his fist in the shower until he's coming, thinking about what it would have been like to force Eddie anyway.

Because there's something else too. Something Eddie won't talk about, bubbling away just under the surface whenever they fuck. And it's not just that Eddie always wants to be on bottom, something he never brings up or talks about. It's that he likes it when it hurts too.

Richie's never been particularly rough with previous partners. He's experimented, sure, done some kinky shit, but he's never had a desire to hurt the person he's fucking. But there's something about Eddie that makes him want to do it. Something about the way Eddie reacts after a particularly hard thrust of his cock, or when his teeth catch on Eddie's nipple a little too hard. It's impossible to ignore how Eddie's body tightens around his dick, how his breath skitters into a high-pitched whine. How much harder he comes after something like that.

But Richie doesn't mention it. He's just got Eddie comfortable with having his dick in his ass on the regular without freaking out. The last thing he wants to do is bring attention to it, damage the fragile equilibrium between them.

But like everything in Richie's life, it comes out anyway. It's a Saturday night and Richie takes Eddie out to a cool new bar in Koreatown to meet some old friends from the comedy circuit. It's loud inside the bar, and Richie keeps Eddie tucked against his side the entire time. It's to keep him safe, as Eddie doesn't really like crowded spaces and doesn't like being jostled around by people he doesn't know, but maybe it's also because Richie gets a bit of a thrill from showing off his sexy new boyfriend in his slim black jeans and his ribbed white tee.

"Not like you to settle down, Tozier," his friend Adam says to him, as Eddie's leaning against the bar ordering a drink. "I'm happy for you."

"I didn't have a choice," Richie says, grinning, squeezing Eddie's hip where he still has his arm looped around him, refusing to break the contact between them for one second. "He's got the sweetest ass I've ever had. What was I supposed to do?"

And he thinks Eddie catches that last bit, as his cheeks are dusted pink when he leans back with his drink, but he doesn't call Richie out.

It's a fun night- Eddie is drinking fruity cocktails and relaxing against Richie's side, giggling as Richie makes fun of the annoyingly hip people around them in different voices, and telling Richie's friends embarrassing stories about him as a kid. The only time he leaves Eddie's side the entire evening is for a couple of minutes to go to the bathroom, but it's still enough of a window for some jock asshole to start hitting on Eddie.

"I'm really not interested," Eddie's saying, looking panicked, pulling away from the guy, who has his hand on his arm. 

"Come on, you've been standing here looking delicious, how am I supposed to resist?" the guy replies, a shark's smile on his face.

Richie pushes through the crowd of people, a veil of red across his vision like he's looking through blood. Not caring when he pushes someone a little too hard and is followed by their shout of, "Hey, what the fuck, dude? Fucking rude prick!" All that matters is getting to Eddie. Now.

"Get your fucking hands off him," he snarls, as soon as he's behind them, meeting Eddie's panicked eyes over the guy's shoulder.

The guy turns, cocky grin falling off his face when he sees him. "Shit, aren't you Richie Tozier?"

"Yeah, and I know you. You're the guy who's about to get his fucking face smashed in if he puts his hands on my boyfriend again."

The guy's eyes go bug-eyed, hands shooting up in surrender.

"Shit, bro, I'm really sorry. I had no idea he was yours."

"He is, so do us a big favour and fuck off back to where you first grew a dick."

The guy half-runs, half-falls away. Richie turns back to Eddie glaring. 

"Can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?" And he's half joking but Eddie just had something about him. Something that lured people to him. Always had, since he was a young boy, when even that fucking perv pharmacist Mr Keene would get his eyes all over Eddie's legs like a virus.

Eddie flushes an angry red. "It's not my fault! I wasn't asking for it!" 

But Richie notices then, how dark his eyes are. How he's breathing heavier. And he realises, he's turned on.

"We're leaving now," Richie says, throwing a handful of bills down on the bar to cover their drinks.

"But, Richie, we haven't even said bye to your friends."

"I don't care. I said we're leaving," and he drags Eddie out of the bar with his fingers digging into his arm.

Richie's mouth is almost frothing when they finally get home. He needs to get inside Eddie right fucking now, with a desperation he's never felt before, even during the months when they were apart and Richie was frightened Eddie would never leave his wife, breathing down the phone late at night about what a fucking special boy he was. Even when he was trying to get clean and thought he was going to die if he didn't get another fix.

He drags Eddie from the car all the way to his bedroom. And Richie's never used their size difference to his advantage before, only when they've been play wrestling so he can pin Eddie to the bed and crow victorious, but he does use it now, throwing him onto the bed and using the full weight of his back and shoulders to press him down to the mattress.

He has Eddie undressed in seconds, not caring when something catches, when he hears something tear. He doesn't bother getting his own clothes off, just pushes his jeans and underwear down his thighs. Then he's pulling Eddie's legs apart with one hand so he can finger him open with the other. And it's not the slow slide he's used before, building up to three fingers, but with two fingers at once. After a few seconds he's tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth and sliding it down his dick, palm slick with spit, as Eddie looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Richie, slow down-" he tries, but Richie ignores him, lining himself up with shaking fingers and pushing inside Eddie's tight heat. 

It's too fast, and he hasn't prepped Eddie nearly enough. Knows instantly from how tight Eddie is around his dick, tighter than he's ever been when they've fucked before. Concern pierces him, and he's about to ask Eddie if he's okay, if he should pull out, but that's when Eddie makes this tiny little whimper. It's a hurt whimper, like he's been nicked deep with something sharp, but one laced with pleasure.

Richie's fangs come out again. In a second he gets Eddie's wrists in one hand and is pinning them above his head.

"You like that?" Richie asks. "You like it when I'm rough with you, baby?"

Eddie shakes his head, pushing his face into the pillow as he flushes red.

"You sure about what?" he says, because Eddie is hard between them, hard and leaking. "I don't believe you when you're this wet. Wet like a fucking girl, baby, from me using you like this?" And Eddie makes a sound like he's crying, and it goes straight to Richie's head and his cock.

He pulls up on his knees, using his hands to pull Eddie's waist up until he's arched off the bed. Then he spits directly onto Eddie's hole, a huge, wet gob of it against where they're joined. And he knows it's filthy, but the dirty wrongness of it, of using Eddie's body like this, turns him the fuck on.

"Oh my god, Richie," he hears Eddie moan distantly, but he doesn't give him any time to adjust because he starts fucking into him hard. And it must hurt, but Richie doesn't care. Doesn't stop him from fucking Eddie brutally, hips slapping loudly off the creamy meat of Eddie's ass.

"Think about this when you let some fucking asshole put his hands on you again," he says, growling through his teeth.

"I didn't- I didn't let him touch me!"

But Richie doesn't care how it happened. All he can see is the shithead's hand on Eddie's arm. His Eddie. His boy. So he fucks Eddie as hard as he wants, not holding back as he presses bruises into his hipbones and his thighs where he manhandles him.

When he comes it hits him with the force of a freight train, with a rush and a roar, his eyes rolling back in his head. Beneath him, Eddie comes too, completely untouched, and it's so fucking hot Richie stretches his legs out further to watch, relishing his slutty little moans and watching with hooded eyes as Eddie paints his chest white with his own release.

"Fuck," he says, pulling out as Eddie winces. Just before falling to the bed, he leans down and places a kiss onto Eddie's sore hole, soothing the hurt with a slick swipe of his tongue and dipping inside where Eddie should be glistening white with his come.

"Did it hurt?" he asks against Eddie's thigh.

"Yes," Eddie says, voice muffled by the pillow he's pushed to his face.

"Good." 

Richie wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. He thinks Eddie might have gone home, but finds him in the kitchen. He's wearing a pair of Richie's sleep pants, but his body language is all wrong, tight as a bow string as he mixes a bowl of pancake batter.

"Eddie?"

"Good morning," Eddie says quietly.

"Are you okay?"

Eddie nods. "Yeah."

Again he's not looking at Richie, which means he doesn't want him to read his face.

"Do you want to look at me?"

"I can't. I'm making breakfast."

Richie comes closer, draws a hand down Eddie's back. He doesn't flinch, which is good, but he doesn't relax against Richie either.

"Baby, I'm sorry about last night. I was a dick. Did I hurt you? I know it was rougher than what we've done before."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a moment, just looks down at the pancake batter.

Finally he says, "I didn't like it, Richie. And I don't want you to do it again."

But he doesn't look at Richie when he says it. Which means he's lying.

"Okay, baby," Richie says. "I won't do it again."

Eddie turns around, smiling at Richie. He leans in for a kiss, and things go on as normal.

He tries to be gentle with Eddie after that. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he really didn't like it. But he can't forget how his chest flushed pink at how hard he was being fucked, how hard he came with Richie pushing bruises into his hips.

So Richie tries out little things, cataloguing Eddie's reactions when he slaps his ass for no reason when they pass each other in the hallway, when he digs his fingers into Eddie's waist as they kiss, or when he hoists Eddie up on the kitchen counter to kiss him. Eddie looks like he's about to complain, but Richie kisses him to shut him up, swallowing his complaints until Eddie's wrapped his legs around his waist.

Another time, when Eddie's off from work and doesn't have to go into the office for another week, Richie gnaws on his neck until it's a mess of red and purple hickeys. Eddie complains loudly, but later that day he walks into the bedroom to see Eddie in the en suite bathroom, running his fingers along the marks, his eyes glazed. And Richie knows that look, knows it from being around junkies for years - that high, floaty look you get just after a hit. It makes him go so hot he has to slip out before he slams Eddie against the mirror, hurting that little body as much as he can.

Then there's the first time Eddie blows Richie. They're making out on the sofa, and Richie's been pressing his fingers over Eddie's hole through his shorts. He's about to risk his chances and see if Eddie will let them fuck on the sofa, when Eddie asks if he can blow him.

Richie's head shoots back from where he's been sucking on Eddie's nipples, leaving them puffy and pink.

"What?"

"I want to try it," Eddie says, a determined look on his face as he fumbles Richie's zipper open. 

Richie grabs his hands. "Are you sure? You don't have to."

"But it's what normal couples do, right? They blow each other?"

And Richie wants to laugh at the resolute look on his face, but doesn't think Eddie would appreciate that.

"Don't compare yourself to other people, love. We don't-"

His words die in his throat as Eddie folds himself down to the floor between Richie's knees, and Richie's trying not to just die at the sight of him. Because while he goes down on Eddie all the time, Eddie has never once asked to blow him, clamming up whenever Richie's asked if he wants to.

Eddie pulls his dick out with both hands, and leans in to lick up his shaft from his balls to the head. And it feels so fucking good, even that, making Richie arch, spreading his legs. Then Eddie's opening his mouth, the blossoming, wet, pink heat of his mouth unfurling around Richie's dick.

And Richie's not one to boast, but he's had a lot of blowjobs. Kinda comes with the territory of being famous. But never one that's felt like this.

Eddie mouths wetly over the head, sucking on it like it's a strawberry lollipop. His eyelashes flutter closed when Richie groans, "fuck yes, kitten," petting his fingers through Eddie's dark hair. "Suck on me like that, baby, get me wet."

And Eddie moans around the head because he likes, no loves, when Richie tells him what to do. Richie feels a rush of power surge through him, wants nothing more than to fuck his dick right into Eddie's mouth, wonders how much it would take to bruise his lips.

"You know, I think you belong on your knees," Richie says, reaching down and angling his dick so it presses against the inside of Eddie's cheek. Palms it on the outside with his other hand, making them both moan at the same time. 

Eddie tries to get more in his mouth, and Richie can't help but thrust forward, buying half of his cock in Eddie's mouth.

But that's when Eddie pulls off, coughing wetly, his lips shining with saliva.

"I can't do it," he whines. "I don't think I can do it, Richie."

But Richie's not about to stop now. Couldn't even if he wanted to. Not when he finally has Eddie on his knees, something he'd thought about for months. All the time as a teenager when he'd lounge on the hammock and Eddie would sit on the floor, leaning back against Richie's legs.

"Baby, just sit there and I'll jerk off on your face."

Eddie blinks up at him with startled eyes. "What?"

"Yeah, be pretty and I'll finish on your face."

Eddie shivers, and Richie thinks he's about to tell him to fuck off, but he doesn't. 

Richie takes himself in his hand and starts to jack himself off. He gets hot at the sight of Eddie on his knees, so hot he feels like his skin is sizzling, with fantasies from the last few months flying through his head like snapshots from the filthiest porno: him teaching Eddie how to suck dick, how to deep throat his fat cock without choking, Eddie swallowing his come and moaning at the taste of it as it fills his mouth. And the dirtiest one: Making him go down on Richie backstage before a show, like his own personal escort. One he pays for in cash and cock.

"Shit, yeah, honey, I'm gonna come," he says as he gets close, reaching down with his other hand to fondle his balls. They feel heavy and full, and he groans as he watches Eddie looking at them, tongue snaking out like he wants to reach in and suck them into his mouth.

"Richie," Eddie says, starting to turn away, but Richie doesn't let him.

"No, keep looking at me," he says, balls throbbing when Eddie does as he's told, eyes wide, mouth open on a pant, as his fingers dig into his legs.

Richie comes just like that, fisting his dick over Eddie's face as he looks up at him with his big beautiful eyes. And the sight of his come shooting across Eddie's face and mouth has to be one of the sexist things he's ever seen, second to watching his dick sink into his tight ass. 

"God, baby," Richie gasps, when he's come completely, dick twitching in his hand. "You were so good."

Eddie wipes a hand across his face, cheeks burning red, Richie's come clumping in his eyelashes like snowflakes. He's about to pull Eddie up for a kiss, when Eddie gets up and walks away without another word; is weirdly stiff and silent for the rest of the evening.

Richie doesn't ask Eddie to blow him again.

Another problem they face is Eddie being shy about their relationship in front of other people.

Eddie walks into the kitchen one morning, soft and sleepy, in one of Richie's t-shirts to see Richie standing there with his manager Todd.

"O-oh!" Eddie squeaks, jumping back like a little cartoon mouse. He doesn't have shorts on, but the shirt covers him almost to his knees. It makes him look even tinier than usual. On Richie, it fits well, stretching across his chest and shoulders. But on Eddie, with his small, slender frame, it could almost be a dress. Richie looks away, not wanting to get a hard-on in front of Todd. Even though he's seen that and much worse before. After finding Richie passed out in a cold puddle of his own vomit after a 72-hour coke binge a few years back, nothing phased him anymore.

"Hello there," Todd says smoothly where he's leaning against the kitchen counter, flashing Eddie one of his ultra-white Hollywood smiles.

"Erm hi," Eddie says, looking between Todd and Richie, so shy it makes Richie's heart hurt. "I didn't know we were having guests so early."

"This is Todd, my manager. He dropped by completely unannounced as he does sometimes," Richie says, shooting Todd a glare. Todd just stares back at him, politely sipping on the oat milk latte he brought with him. "Todd, this is my boyfriend Eddie."

"Lovely to meet you, Eddie," Todd says smoothly, raising his latte. "Richie's told me so much about you."

"Only the good things, I hope."

"All good about you. All things that make him look like a total jackass."

Richie's nose flares but Eddie smiles. "Well that's not hard."

"I've even heard you've had him eating vegetables for the first time. Surprised he hasn't keeled over in shock."

"Well, only when they're glazed in soy sauce and garlic first."

Richie rolls his eyes. "If you've both finished?" He turns to Eddie. "You want juice, baby? It's in the fridge."

Eddie goes beet red. "Okay, thanks. And then I think I should shower and go. I have a lot of stuff to do today, a lot of important stuff."

Richie blinks at him. "Sure, of course."

Both men stand there and watch as Eddie makes his way to the fridge.

_VERY NICE_ Todd mouths behind Eddie's back, giving him two obnoxious thumbs up.

"Nice to meet you," Eddie says when he has his juice, looking far too cute and awkward as he backs out of the room.

Todd shoots him another smile. "You too. Let's all go for drinks soon."

Todd looks at him, eyebrows raised, when Eddie's disappeared round the corner.

"I thought you were exaggerating when you said he was as beautiful as a woman, Tozier."

"Dude, don't say that here. He'll have a fit."

"Are you seriously tapping that?" Todd says, ignoring him as he usually does. "I think I might be jealous."

"Get your own. If I even catch you flirting-"

"Keep your pants on. The doe-eyed twink is yours."

"Anyway," Richie says morosely, "we haven't even fucked that much."

"Why? Thought you'd find it impossible keeping your dick out of him, knowing you."

"It's not because I don't want to. He's intimidated by my penis."

Todd chokes on his latte, spraying foam all across Richie's t-shirt.

"Dude, I'm serious. I think he's like sexually scared of me or something. Can't even get him to blow me after he almost choked on it the first time."

"Oh my god," Todd says, wheezing, face red with laughter.

"It's not fucking funny. I haven't jerked off this much in years. I feel like I'm 16 all over again."

Todd's face grows serious. "Shit, really? Well remember to use the silicone-based lube so you don't chafe yourself, not that cheap watery shit. I'm not cancelling a show because you get a dick injury."

Richie smiles at him, all teeth, as he shows Todd to the door. "It's really nice to have these little heart-to-hearts, Todd. So happy to know you care about me as a person as much as a money-making machine."

"Hey that condo in Malibu isn't paying for itself, you know."

"You're a fucking fiend."

Back in the bedroom, Eddie is dressing with short, sharp movements.

"Why didn't you tell me, Richie?" he says, shooting Richie a glare as he walks in.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"About your manager being here? I just wander in, what was he going to think with me dressed like this?"

"Eddie, it's fucking Todd, it doesn't matter what he thinks. And you're my boyfriend, everyone knows that."

"But he's going to think I'm, I don't know, that I'm some kept boy!" As he says it his entire face goes pink.

"Okay? Sounds like you're getting a bit too defensive, man. Is there something you want to tell me?"

Eddie glowers, gets his bag and flounces off without saying goodbye. Richie's left wondering what the fuck just happened.

The way the press talk about Eddie and their relationship is another big issue.

The paparazzi had always been a bit obsessed with Richie. Probably because years of him falling out of nightclubs roaring drunk and going on SNL as high as a kite meant great clicks. But Richie could never have predicted how much they would latch onto Eddie, who had arrived in LA like a sweet sacrificial lamb, innocently waiting to be served up and devoured by the cameras on every street corner.

And Richie thought they would get bored eventually. But they were bombarded with articles almost every week, with bawdy headlines from WHO IS TRASHMOUTH TOZIER'S NEW BOY TOY? to TRASHMOUTH TAKES PRETTY NEW BF TO LUNCH IN HOLLYWOOD HILLS. 

Richie finds it all a little hilarious, and he makes sure to school his mouth into a firm, serious line as he watches Eddie thrum with anger.

"Those fuckers," Eddie breathes, as they twist their relationship into some tawdry soap opera exaggeration of what really happened. It was hard enough for Eddie to accept he was gay, to get away from his sham marriage, without paps making him out to be some gold-digging himbo.

"Just ignore it, sweetheart," he says, reaching over Eddie's shoulder to x off the tabs. Only to see 20 more open in his browser. Huh.

"Is that what they think I am? Just some plaything?" Eddie asks, whirling around in his desk chair.

"Of course not, Eddie, for fuck's sake."

"Then why are they talking about me like this?"

Richie shrugs. "Who the fuck cares? It's paparazzi, they feed off shit like this." 

Eddie nods, curling into himself slightly. The next tab he clicks on has another article about them, this time with a picture of Richie from the week before, laden down with department store bags walking down Melrose Avenue, as Eddie holds his other hand, looking up at him adoringly. The headline reads in all its shameless clickbait glory, "SUGAR DADDY TOZIER TAKES BABY OUT ON SHOPPING SPREE."

Eddie's throat wobbles, two high circles of red blooming on his cheeks like a fever.

"Huh, that's really something," Richie says, trying to ignore how he's getting hard. How the words "sugar daddy" make him twitch.

"So dumb," Eddie says, and it's true, because Eddie had insisted on paying for his clothes, but it still looked like Richie, the mega-rich celebrity, had taken his pretty boyfriend out shopping. Especially with the way Eddie was staring at him in the pictures. Like he was dick-whipped.

And Richie remembers how agonising that day was. When Eddie had tried on all those cute sweaters and shorts, and modelled them for Richie, and Richie had just sat there feeling like a starved dog, legs spread, wanting to jerk off so bad. Richie had palmed himself through his jeans when Eddie had disappeared behind the curtain, thinking of following him into the tiny dressing room and pulling down whatever shorts Eddie was trying on now, before slipping to his knees and prying his ass apart to fuck him on his tongue. Maybe paying off the store not to say anything. 

The memory of that afternoon has Richie leaning down and breathing into Eddie's ear, "Maybe I should just be your sugar daddy, huh?"

"What?" Eddie says, though it comes out as more of a wobble.

"Dress you up on my dollar? You'd look so fine, baby, I'd buy you anything you want."

For a second Eddie just sucks in a quivering breath, but then he's elbowing him sharply. "Horn dog, get off."

Eddie clicks off the tab, face pink, while Richie excuses himself to go and get a drink from the kitchen. Because holy fuck.

After a while, Eddie becomes more used to the press. To the point where Richie compiles the best articles weekly and reads them out to Eddie.

"This one is great," Richie says one evening lying on the sofa, as Eddie stands at the stove flipping corn fritters. "It says you came to my show in Chicago after internet stalking me for years and seduced me backstage. That we disappeared for a three-day fuckfest in Maine."

Eddie makes a disgusted noise. "A _fuckfest?"_

"Sounds hot if you ask me. I'm sending this one to Bev."

Eddie drops the spatula. "What?!"

"Bev and I have been swapping the best ones."

"Oh my god," Eddie says quietly. "I can't believe that. I can't believe Bev would do that to me."

"Hey! This one says that you only have a thing for tall, dark-haired Jewish guys with glasses."

Eddie huffs, as he picks up the spatula again. "Guess that explains why I find Stan so hot."

That makes Richie sit up, laughter dying. "Excuse me? Is that a joke?"

"No, I think maybe I confessed my undying love to the wrong Jewish guy in Derry."

Richie's expression makes Eddie roll his eyes. "Yes, obviously it's a joke, for god's sake, Richie."

"Good, because I'd actually break that bird fucker's nose."

"Bird fucker? You can't say that about Stan, Richie."

Richie's good humour comes back when he flips open the next article.

"Oh my god, this one says you'd been seducing male celebrities for years. That you were one of the guys Tom Cruise had a fling with-"

"IT SAYS WHAT? HOW THE FUCK WOULD I KNOW TOM CRUISE?"

Richie laughs into a cushion until he's crying. "This is perfect, Eddie. I'm the famous comedian. Bill's the famous novelist. Bev's the famous fashion designer. You can be the famous- the famous come guzzler," he breaks into fresh laughter as Eddie squawks angrily. 

"God, you're annoying. I think I might break up with you right now."

He uses the other cushion to hit Richie over the head until Richie pulls him onto the sofa. They kiss, all articles forgotten, until they smell something burning and Eddie slips out from under him to find all his fritters blackened in the pan.

They order takeout instead, and then Richie eats Eddie out until he cries.

But it all comes back to bite them one afternoon when they meet Ben and Bev for lunch downtown.

"Just embrace it, sweetie. You can be Richie's sugar baby," Bev says, after Richie's recounted the latest incidents of press perviness. 

They all laugh. Everyone apart from Eddie, who glowers at them across the table, a storm brewing in his eyes.

"So glad I'm such a fucking joke to you," he says, twisting his napkin in his lap.

The laughter dies instantly. "Honey, we don't mean it," Bev says, reaching out to take his hand, but Eddie pulls away.

"I'm going to the bathroom" he says quietly, getting up and walking away.

Bev turns to Richie, eyes huge and sad. "I really was only playing. I'd never want to hurt him."

But Richie waves her off, rolling his eyes. "He's fine. He's just on his period."

"Richie," she says, making a face. "It's hard for him at the moment. He's trying to figure out where he fits in your life. It can't be easy."

"It is easy!" he says, and it's too loud because everyone sitting at the tables around them is suddenly looking at them. "He doesn't fit in my life, he IS my life. He should know that." And he can't help but feel a thundercloud of anger sweep across the table for the rest of their lunch.

A fight breaks out between Eddie and Richie as soon as they get back.

"No one takes me seriously, Richie. I'm just, I don't know, arm candy, and that's it."

"Christ, I didn't think you'd be this sensitive about it. If you don't like the attention, maybe don't date a famous guy then?"

He instantly hates himself the second it's out his mouth.

"Fine, maybe I won't," Eddie says, "I'm going home."

"Eddie-"

"Fuck you, don't touch me." He slams the front door on his way out.

Richie lasts 40 minutes, pacing around the house, thinking Eddie's going to call him any second saying he doesn't want to do this anymore. That he's packing up his shit, going back to New York, that he doesn't want to see Richie ever again.

He gets in his car and speeds all the way over there. When he knocks Eddie opens the door instantly, like he'd been standing there the entire time.

"I'm sorry," Richie says. "I didn't mean it."

"I didn't mean it either," Eddie chokes, and he looks like he's been crying. "I'm such a dick, I'm sorry."

He pulls Richie into the apartment, and Richie goes willingly. And they're falling against the coffee table in his living room, and Richie sucks marks into Eddie's chest as Eddie stammers, "I don't want anyone else, just you," and Richie doesn't know whether he wants to cry or fuck Eddie so hard _he_ cries. Ends up hoisting Eddie up, his arms under his ass, and carrying him to his bedroom where he fucks him on top of the sheets.

But even then, Richie can't deny that he wants to be so much closer to Eddie. And can't fight the feeling that they're both holding back. 

One night, he has Eddie spread out under him, his eyes hooded, limbs so pale in the lamplight. He's just started fucking Eddie, but the thought of doing it without the condom hits him, and he wants it so bad. Needs it. He starts to pull out, interrupting Eddie's dreamy expression.

"Richie, where are you going?"

"Let me pull out and take the condom off."

"What?"

"I wanna take you bare, baby, can I?"

"W-what?"

Richie thinks about sinking into him with no barrier separating them. He'd been buying the ultra-thin condoms, but it still wasn't enough. Still wasn't his skin inside Eddie's skin. Still wasn't feeling his come soaking inside his boy.

"Wanna come inside you. Can I?"

Eddie shakes his head, but the way he shifts his hips down onto Richie's cock says the opposite. And so does the way his pink mouth falls open.

Richie knows Eddie likes it when he talks dirty. So he uses it to his advantage when he says, "How about that, sugar? Imagine me pushing into you, nothing separating us." He thumbs at the soft rim of Eddie's hole, wet and stretched around his cock. "Imagine nothing between you and my big dick. Think about how it'll feel when I come inside you. How you'll be dripping me all day tomorrow."

And Richie thinks he's got him, but then Eddie's shaking his head like breaking out from a dream.

"No Richie, you're wearing a condom or we're not doing it at all."

"Baby-"

"I said no!"

So he keeps the condom on. Because doing that is better than not getting to fuck Eddie at all.

But it doesn't stop the fantasies. Or how much Richie wants. How much he has to jerk off because he's always holding himself back. When Eddie's gone to the supermarket or the office, and he's pushing his sweatpants down and jerking off. They're mean fantasies, meaner than any he's had before, punctuated by pictures of his hand on Eddie's neck, squeezing the air out of him as Eddie rides him; of watching Richie wreak his tiny hole as they fuck in front of a mirror; of coming inside him and not letting him wear anything so he can see his come on Eddie's thighs all day.

Everything comes to a head one day about a week before Richie's about to head off on a six-week North American tour.

When he'd moved out to LA, Eddie had found a job pretty quickly with an insurance company. Maybe a little too quickly, Richie thought, but didn't say anything as Eddie was always so adamant about being independent and paying his way. And it seemed to be going fine, but Eddie had been antsy for a couple of weeks now, morose before going to work in the morning and edgy when he comes to Richie's in the evening.

Richie comes home that afternoon to the sound of something smashing. He makes his way to the living room quickly, thoughts of Eddie crumpled on the floor or bleeding making him panic, but finds Eddie just standing there, breath coming quick, looking down at the jagged pieces of a vase he'd obviously just swept off a side table. He looks up, frightened, when he sees Richie standing there.

"That vase was a real asshole. Had been giving me shitty looks for years," Richie says to ease the tension.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, bottom lip wobbling.

"Eddie, what's wrong with you?"

"I don't-"

"No," Richie says firmly, because fuck this. Fuck the evasiveness and the hiding. "Tell me what's going on right now."

Eddie slumps down on the sofa, looking completely dejected. In a way he hasn't looked since Derry almost a year before.

"I hate my job, Richie," he says. "I've always hated it I think, I only ever did it because mom pushed me into it."

"Okay," Richie shrugs. "Then quit."

Eddie glares at him. "Richie, stop it!"

"Stop what? You hate your job, so quit. It's really that simple."

"No, it's not. How am I supposed to support myself? Pay rent? Bills? You know, all those little things, Richie?"

"Have you forgotten we're in a relationship? I can look after you until you decide what you want to do next."

Eddie's mouth twists. "What and just leech off you?"

Richie sighs, but doesn't snap back. Knows that won't lead anywhere but Eddie getting up and leaving the house. To an evening of them not talking until they both crack and crawl back to each other later that night. And they won't talk about it until something like this happens again.

He sits next to Eddie, making his voice soft when he says, "What are you talking about? You're not leeching off me."

"That's the way it feels. Living with you. Paying for everything. Now saying you'll support me while I quit my job and do nothing?"

Eddie buries his face in his hands while Richie rubs his neck, does that thing he likes where he scratches his fingernails across the skin there.

"Baby, what if things were the other way round? You'd do the same for me wouldn't you?"

Eddie blinks at him through his fingers. "Well, yeah, of course."

"Then what's the issue?"

Eddie just looks at him with an open, vulnerable expression. And Richie thinks again of that little boy from Derry, the one who always tried so hard to be brave, even when he was terrified. The one who'd call Richie an asshole and the next minute be pushing into his arms for a hug.

"It can just be while you're figuring things out, it doesn't have to be forever," he says, pushing a lock of hair behind Eddie's ear.

"I don't know, Richie..."

"Come on, just let me do this one thing? Let me look after you, please?"

Eddie finally nods, lets Richie kiss his neck. "Okay," he says, and something inside Richie, the one that wants Eddie with him always, trills.

Something else clicks, and he leans back with a grin. "Hey! And this means you can come on tour with me!"

But Eddie still looks uncertain. "I don't think so. I'll be a bother. You'll be busy all the time, I don't want to be a drag."

Richie rolls his eyes. "Babe. Again, you're my boyfriend. And all the hotels are booked. All we need to do is book the flights."

Eddie bites down on his lip. "Well, if you're sure?"

"I am. It's done."

Eddie quits his job the next day, and the next week they set off for the first date of Richie's tour.

Richie hopes they won't get much attention as they make their way to the airport for the flight to Seattle. Richie was used to it by now of course. But it made Eddie anxious, like by extension he had become this mini celebrity all of his own. And since announcing his new relationship, Richie was constantly bombarded with questions for his fans, demands for pictures of Eddie on social media, lifestyle publications requesting for photoshoots of the two of them. One day Richie had posted a picture of Eddie and Richie as boys, Eddie glaring angrily at the camera as Richie tried to lick his nose freckles, and his mouth had gone desert dry when he woke up the next morning to find 18 million people had liked it on Instagram.

"They're hungry for you, babe," Richie said later, when the shock had worn off. "Hey, how many likes do you think we'd get for one of your nudes?"

But it's like there's been some citywide announcement because everyone seems to recognise Richie and Eddie. At the airport they're almost mowed down by two Japanese girls squeaking "Trashmouth!" at him and asking for a picture. But then they see Eddie at his side, and they go utterly silent for one golden second before screeching "SO CUTE!" and snapping photos of him on their phones as Richie laughs at Eddie's horrified expression. Then on the flight, the air hostess comes over and says, "For your lovely companion," with complimentary champagne for Eddie. And once they're at the hotel, the women behind the desk in reception giggle as they look over at them, where Richie's got his arm slung around Eddie's waist.

After they've dropped their stuff off in their room - their extremely large, penthouse room, with comes with a hot tub, bespoke chocolates in the shape of the Trashmouth logo and champagne on ice - they find somewhere nice downtown for lunch. And Richie feels so happy to have Eddie here, so giddy at the thought of him being on tour with him that he almost blurts "never get a job again," but manages to keep his mouth shut.

Back at the hotel, Richie gets ready for the show, reciting lines under his breath as he gets dressed. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie looking at an article on his laptop, pictures of them at lunch together already on the internet. The headline reads TRASHMOUTH IN SEATTLE TO KICKSTART NEW TOUR, SEEN DOWNTOWN WITH HIS BOY TOY. He also sees the way Eddie blinks at it, fingers squirming in his lap.

"You'll be okay here?" Richie asks, just before he leaves.

"Uh-huh," Eddie says, where he's lounging on the bed. "I hope you kill it, man."

"Man," Richie mocks as he leans down for a kiss. "Thanks, bro. Thanks, dude. Thanks, but no homo."

Eddie rolls his eyes, trying not to laugh. "Okay, I hope you kill it, love of my life. Better?"

"Better," Richie says, kissing him on the lips. "Though maybe you could add a bit about my massive dong?"

Eddie bats him fondly. "Idiot."

That's when he realises he only has the one hotel key. "Shall I leave it here? In case you want to go out?"

But Eddie just shakes his head. "No, it's okay, you keep it, in case I'm sleeping when you get back and you need to get in."

That means Eddie will effectively be locked in the room all night. "Okay, honey, if you're sure?"

And Eddie says he is, so he leaves him there after a lingering kiss, says he'll be back as soon as the show is over.

Except that doesn't happen because by the time the show's over, the crew want to chat to him backstage, giddy from how well everything went, and then he needs to talk to fans who've been waiting patiently outside the venue to see him and take pictures. By the time that's all done it's way later than he said he'd be back. _Fuck_, he thinks. He makes a pit stop to pick up a cake for Eddie in the late-night bakery opposite the venue - chocolate and strawberry - knowing he'll love it and can use it in his favour, and hops in an Uber to get back to the hotel.

He imagines Eddie's in bed already, tells himself to be as quiet as possible when he gets in. But once he's inside the room, he finds all the lights on. And not just that, but Eddie standing by the door in nothing but a skimpy pair of soft, dove-grey boxer briefs.

"Eddie, mpf-" his words get cut off as Eddie takes his face in his hands and kisses him. But it's not one of the small, quick kisses he's used to from Eddie. This one is open-mouthed and wet, Eddie sucking his tongue into his mouth as soon as he parts his lips. Richie kisses back because how can he not, getting his hands on that tiny waist as Eddie stands on his tip toes to press against him. 

"I missed you," Eddie says when he draws back, his lips shiny with Richie's spit.

"I missed you too," Richie says, even though he's only been gone for six hours. But he can't think properly with the way Eddie is peppering his face and neck with kisses, how he's running his hands over his shoulders and chest, pressing his lithe little body up against Richie.

"You're hard, baby," Richie says, feeling light-headed from where Eddie's rutting gently against his thigh.

"I know. Got hard waiting for you," Eddie says against his ear, tongue flicking out to lick his lobe. "Thought about you at your show. How sexy you looked, how much everyone probably wanted you," he runs his hands over Richie's shoulders, "but they can't have you because you're mine."

And fuck, did his bashful boyfriend get possessed by some horny succubus when he was out?

He almost goes cross-eyed when Eddie breathes into his ear, "I wanna ride you," palming Richie's dick through his pants where he's getting hard. Eddie never wanted to ride Richie. Always got too shy, much preferring when Richie pressed him into the bed and covered his small body with his.

"You- what?" he says stupidly, but Eddie's already dragging him over to the bed. Seconds later, he's pushing his jacket off, pawing at Richie's belt as Richie pulls his shirt over his head. He makes quick work of his underwear, pushing them down his thighs while Eddie makes a mewling noise at the sight of his hard cock. He's about to look for a condom, but Eddie already has one in his hand, tearing it open and rolling it onto Richie's dick. And shit, maybe he should leave Eddie in hotel rooms more often, if this was the welcome home package he was going to get every time.

As soon as the condom's on, Eddie's straddling him, resting those plump thighs around his legs as he lines up Richie's dick at his entrance.

Richie snaps out of his daze before Eddie can sink down. He grabs Eddie's waist hard to stop him, ignoring the way he whimpers.

"Baby, wait, I need to prep you-"

"I already did it," Eddie pants. "I fingered myself before you got here."

And Richie feels like he's been pummelled because what? Eddie never did this. He never initiated sex, never prepared for it. Always waited until Richie wanted it. Like a damsel being dragged off to be ravished. And he never fingered himself for Richie, no matter how much he asked

Eddie gives him a sly little look, one he's never seen on him before, as he leans in to wet Richie's bottom lip with his tongue. "Do you like the sound of that, Richie?" he whispers against his mouth. "Are you gonna destroy me with your big, fat cock? Fuck me until I'm aching for days?"

But Richie doesn't have time, or any blood left in his brain, to answer. Because Eddie's holding his dick again and lowering himself onto it, moaning. And not the little, breathy moans he's used to punching out of Eddie, but something high and loud, the sound a slut would make in a porno.

"Fuck," he says against Eddie's shoulder, the hard, wet feel of Eddie clamping around his cock like a vice. And Eddie doesn't give himself any time to adjust to the feel of him inside, just lifts himself up and falls again, throwing his head back as Richie's entire dick fills him up.

Eddie rides him like that, bouncing in his lap fast and moaning his name, stopping every few minutes to gyrate his hips in Richie's lap, like he's just relishing the feel of Richie's cock inside him. At one point he leans back to thumb at his own nipples as he makes these tight little circles with his hips, and Jesus, where had Eddie learned to do something like that? Like he was a rent boy high on cock.

"Fuck, what's got into you, baby," he gasps. Because while he's definitely not fucking complaining, he needs to know.

Eddie shakes his head, face going floaty as he looks at Richie. But Richie won't have that, so he slaps his ass lightly, making Eddie gasp. 

"Tell me, come on."

A shadow of his shy Eddie comes back then. "I- I was on the internet when you were gone."

"Okay?"

"And I saw all these comments from people, about us, about me. Saying you were just using me, like I was your toy."

"Baby, I told you not to-"

"No, you don't understand. I- I," and his face feels hot against Richie's neck where he mumbles into his skin, "I liked it."

Richie's pretty sure his brain short-circuits. "What?"

"This is all I want, Richie," Eddie gasps wetly into his ear. He sounds drunk, totally fucked out on Richie's dick. "This. Want this all the time. Your cock inside me, fucking me. Want to be yours, want to fucking belong to you."

"What are you saying, Eddie?"

"I don't want to get a new job. I wanna stay with you. Go on the road with you. I want to be your trophy husband. Your sugar baby. Your baby boy-"

He keens, tries to ride Richie again but can't, because Richie suddenly has an iron-tight grip on his hips. And something inside Richie is cracking open at his words. Some dark, undeniable hunger he's been trying to keep at bay all this time, since they were reunited in Derry.

His hand shoots out and grabs Eddie by the back of the hair. He pulls his head back until the entire length of his quivering neck is exposed.

Eddie makes a desperate little noise and he grabs Richie by the wrist to stop him.

"Get your hand off me," Richie says, lowly, and Eddie does, instantly dropping his hand back to the mattress as he breathes shallowly.

Positioned like this, arched in Richie's lap, puts Eddie's entire body on display. His pale, trembling chest, his legs bracketing Richie's waist, his dick hard and dripping between his juicy thighs, his long white throat. 

Richie puts his mouth to Eddie's ear. "Is that what you want, huh? You wanna be my fuck toy? My little come dump?"

Eddie sucks in a breath, harsh and high. "I-"

"Don't fucking talk until I tell you to."

Eddie goes instantly silent. The thrill of it lights Richie up all the way from his chest, makes his dick twitch hard inside Eddie.

"Is this what you've been hiding from me this entire time? That you want to be my little sub bitch?"

He doesn't let Eddie answer. Instead he lifts Eddie until he's off his cock, uses one hand to keep his ass up and the other to pull the condom off.

"Richie, w-what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you bare," he says. He sinks Eddie back down. And it's so agonisingly tight and hot he groans. Eddie moans too, though it's higher and thinner. He grinds up into Eddie's tight ass, teeth bared, as he feels Eddie clench wetly around him.

"You wanna be mine, huh? Do you even know what that means? I'm gonna sink my dick into you whenever I fucking want, leave you wet and open for it. Come inside you and then I'll go out for a while and I'll come back and fuck you again. In the morning, in the middle of the night, whenever I feel like it. I won't give a shit if you want it or not. Because that's what you were made for, taking my dick."

Eddie stills, moaning so loudly from Richie's words, and it's needier than anything he's ever heard from Eddie, needier than the trashiest porn he's watched. He never thought Eddie was capable of making such a noise. And it just makes him want to hurt Eddie more.

He slaps his thigh hard, leaves a red mark there, relishing the way Eddie cries out.

"Come on, you fucking slut. Ride me if you want my cock so fucking bad."

And Eddie does. Bounces himself on Richie's dick with his hands on Richie's shoulders, moaning like a whore. 

"Do you even know what it's been like? Had to jerk off in the bathroom for months while you held out on me. Do you think that was fair?"

Eddie shakes his head, and Richie slaps him on the face. It's only light, just a hard tap really, but it makes Eddie's eyes fly open, makes him clamp hard around Richie's dick as he stares down at him with shocked eyes.

"Answer me."

"No, Richie, it wasn't fair," he says wetly, like he's about to sob.

Richie gets his hands on Eddie's waist again, planting his feet on the bed and fucking up into him as hard as he can.

"And you were keeping this from me the whole time," he growls, using his hands to stretch Eddie's ass around his dick, wishing he could watch his thick dick fucking up into Eddie's tight little cunt. "When this is what you really are."

Richie fucks him like that, pulling Eddie down on his cock, until he can't take it anymore. Until he's flipping them over on the bed, and nailing Eddie so hard he thinks the hotel might get some complaints tomorrow from Eddie's wailing. But he can't bring himself to give a fuck, because everything he's been hiding over the last year is coming out. Everything he's wanted to do to Eddie. Everything he's wanted to say. And now he knows Eddie's wanted it too. To be used like he belongs to Richie. Like he's the trophy he won for saving his life. His pretty little toy for him to fuck.

"Gonna come inside you, baby," Richie says when he's on the cusp, looking down into Eddie's needy, desperate face.

"Do it, Richie, do it," Eddie whines, thighs clamped around his back.

"Beg me then, beg me to fill your slutty ass with my come."

"R-Richie-"

Richie slaps him again, thrills at the sight of his hand print blooming on Eddie's cheek. "Do it, I said. Beg me to cream your little tight ass."

And Eddie does, voice cracking as he says, "I want it, please Richie, please, need your come, need your come so badly, Daddy-"

The _Daddy_ is the thing that does it, cracking through him like a whip as he starts to come, shooting inside Eddie as he presses inside him as deep as he can. He groans at the feeling of it, with nothing to separate him from Eddie, the hot wetness of it filling him up. 

"Fuck, you feel it, baby?" he says, voice wobbling. "Feel me in you?" 

And Eddie nods, lashes fluttering as Richie spills inside him. "I feel it, oh my god, there's so much of it, Richie. Feel so full."

He doesn't pull out. Instead Richie licks his throat, nosing at the soft skin before biting down hard at the juncture of his shoulder. "You're mine," he says, "you've always been fucking mine." He keeps his teeth clamped there until Eddie starts to squirm, making a hurt little noise at the back of his throat. When he pulls away it's to his teeth marks in Eddie's neck, shockingly red against the pale skin of his throat.

When he's finally pulled out, licking his lips at the sight of his cum wetting Eddie's hole, he thinks Eddie might finally come to his senses. Might pull away from his embrace and clamp up again. That this might kickstart a whole new icy phase where he'll refuse to let Richie touch him.

But instead he lets himself be pulled into Richie's arms, sighing contentedly as he peppers the side of his face with kisses.

When Richie's finally caught his breath, he says, "So are we going to talk about it?"

Again he thinks Eddie will refuse, but he feels him nod. "Okay," he says quietly.

"Go on then."

"I wanted this all the time," Eddie says quietly against his neck. "But I was scared."

"Of what I'd think?"

Eddie nods. "And what it says about me. That maybe there was something wrong with me."

Richie strokes his hand down Eddie's ribs. "It doesn't say anything bad about you, baby."

"You don't think it's weird?"

"Do you think my reactions were freaked out?"

"No."

"No because it's hot. And it's what I wanted too."

"Really?"

"Why do you think I was pushing so hard for you to move in with me. Why I want to pay for stuff all the time. I wanna look after you."

"But looking after me is different to..." Eddie trails off.

"What? Belonging to me?"

"Yeah..."

"Did you mean all the things you said?"

Eddie nods.

"And did you like all the things I said to you?"

Eddie nods again. And that's not really good enough, so Richie pushes his hand down and pinches the swell of Eddie's ass. Hard.

Eddie jumps against him, drawing in a shocked breath.

"Come on, use your words, Eddie. Tell me how it made you feel." He digs his fingers, using his entire hand to grip Eddie's butt and squeeze hard.

"Okay, okay! I liked it. I loved it!"

"Good," Richie says, releasing his grip and stroking Eddie's ass, where his nails have left small crescents. 

Strokes a finger around his entrance, feels how wet he is with Richie's come. Pushes one inside as Eddie arches his back.

"Richie, what are you doing?"

"What I want, baby. That's the deal right? You're mine so I can do whatever I fucking like to you."

He fingers Eddie until he's coming - coming with a broken sound like he's crying, and Richie savours every second of it.

Richie fucks him again in the morning. This time with Eddie bent over the breakfast table, the one by the window overlooking the Seattle skyline. Couldn't resist as soon as he saw Eddie in one of the hotel bathrobes, pulling him up and pushing him face-first onto the table. He fucks him with one hand on his hip, the other hooked into his mouth to keep his mouth open. Feels him drool over his fingers as he keens loudly with each of Richie's thrusts. He fucks him hard, not caring if he's sore from the night before. Eddie comes anyway, makes a little broken moan as he comes against the tablecloth. Richie, bare, comes inside him again where he's still wet. Fills him to the brim with his come.

Afterwards, Richie pulls out slowly, swipes his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches the two loads of his come pooling inside Eddie.

"Good boy," he says, voice hoarse. "God, I wanna plug you up. Keep all my come inside you."

Richie gets his arms under Eddie and carries him to the shower, kissing him gently when he places Eddie down on the floor, where his legs are quivering like he's a newborn deer. They shower together like that, kissing lazily under the shower head, Eddie sighing sweetly into his mouth.

He has to go then, stupidly for a meeting with Todd, but the thought of leaving Eddie is too much. "You need to go, go on," Eddie laughs, sounding breathless as Richie kisses his neck, tonguing over the mark he'd left there. Shit, he hasn't felt this exhilarated since he was last on coke. 

Richie gets dressed while Eddie sits on their bed, completely nude apart from the lurid bite mark on his throat which he wears like a choker.

"What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

Eddie shrugs, looking looser and happier than he's ever seen him. "I might explore. Go downtown. See the sights."

"Want some money?"

Eddie blinks at him for a moment. Richie thinks he's about to say no when Eddie's lashes go down. "Okay. Please."

And god, that little please. Richie digs his wallet out of his pocket, goes through the notes in it as Eddie watches.

"How much do you think you'll need? $200? $250? Here, baby, take $300."

Eddie takes the money with trembling hands. "Thank you."

"I want you back here by 6pm though. Wanna come back and fuck you, then we'll go out for dinner."

Eddie sucks in a breath. "Yes, Richie."

He leans in to give Eddie one more fierce kiss, and then he's gone, leaving his gorgeous boy in his bed.

Todd meets him in the lobby. "Why do you look like such a smug son of a bitch?" he asks suspiciously.

"Eddie's not scared of my dick anymore," Richie says, maybe slightly too loud, feeling it race through his blood.

"Very happy for you. Do you have pics?"

"No, asshole."

"Damn. Hey, by the way, HBO called and they want to do the show."

Todd says it so casually that Richie just stares at him.

"They- they want to do it?"

"Yes, you lucky son of a bitch. They just told me this morning." He grins at Richie. "This is fucking huge, Tozier, you've done it!"

And Richie just grins back. Because it was looking like it was going to be a great fucking day.

"Fuck, I can't believe it."

"I know, neither can I. Let's talk about it more in the car. Where's your pretty boyfriend anyway?"

"He needs to rest from how hard I fucked him last night," Richie says absently, thinking of Eddie upstairs again, how beautiful he was, how fucking lucky Richie got. He suddenly thinks about what it would be like to marry him, to get down on one knee and propose. Richie never thought he'd be the type, but he wants to with Eddie. Wants it so bad. He twitches in his pants at the thought of it: Eddie in his ring, belonging to him completely.

"Hey," he asks Todd. "Are there any good jewellers in Seattle?"

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! This is my longest Reddie fic to date, which I've been working on over the Christmas and New Year break. It's my take on what I think is the Reddie fandom's most popular fic: the post-IT 2, get-together fix-it fic, but with the added themes I love to explore in my writing, such as desire, obsession, sexual identity and romantic intensity.
> 
> As a warning, this fic features a developing dynamic between Richie and Eddie that can be shocking in its intensity. Richie objectifies Eddie and speaks about him like he's an object; is extremely possessive; has cruel sexual fantasies about him; and there is an instance of rough sex where there's dubious consent.
> 
> I write a lot about my fics and my thinking behind how I write Reddie on my Tumblr: shortcake-kaspbrak. Say hi, and please let me know if you enjoyed this fic by commenting! Comments are like the most delicious nectar and fuel everything I write.
> 
> As a side note: I borrowed Todd - Richie's handsome, blonde, native Californian manager - from my previous fic "All that glitters" because I love him and I love writing his interactions with Richie.


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